


Wearing the wind

by Dylanation



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adult Naruto Uzumaki, Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Aged Up Naruto Uzumaki, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Outcast Sasuke Uchiha, Outsider Sasuke Uchiha, Tattoos, adult/teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanation/pseuds/Dylanation
Summary: "Have you ever felt desire for someone, Sasuke?"
Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Wearing the wind

The boundless meadows have now turned into yellowish and arid expanses, the dry earth alternates with brushwood burnt by the sun, by the heat, by the absence of water.

It is the first day after months in which the clouds resume passing in the sky and Sasuke looks at them hopefully and annoyed at the same time.

Rain would be really needed, but the superstitions of the place are clear: storms bring changes. And Sasuke hates changes.

  


Anyway those are too white, too swollen, too bright clouds ... it is impossible for them to bring rain.

And in fact during the day they bring only shadows, abstract scribbles, unreleased horizons. Living has never been so boring.

  


It is in the middle of the afternoon that the roar of a motorbike breaks the silence and the thirty-two inhabitants of the village go out and look at what is happening. It is rare that someone passes there by chance and even rarer is that someone does it on purpose.

  


The first thing that catches Sasuke’s attention, being literally pierced with no possibility of escape, are the freedom blue eyes of the boy who gets off the bike at the edge of the camp.

  


He has blue skinny jeans and a white ribbed tank top, a worn and dusty real leather jacket, sunburned epidermis, a large tattoo on the side of the throat. 

  


He smiles, and it is another detail that completely clashes with the mistrust of the thirty-two people who begin to look at him more and more curious.

  


They are descendants of nomads, they are outsiders, they are outcasts, they are misfits. But that boy is not afraid and has no hesitation, he takes off his helmet and the golden yellow of his hair makes even brighter his already noisy image. Sasuke has never felt so black and white.

  


He is a photojournalist, he just wants to take some shots and does not expect the inhabitants to be in them. He just wants to tell the story of these scenarios that no one ever pays attention to, the intent of his article is to destroy piece by piece the beliefs of those who think the reality is only one. The headman gives him permission, but it is clear as the sun that he hasn’t taken a shine to him. He warns the other thirty-one inhabitants about this stranger. He points a finger towards the sky and “Even if they didn’t bring water, these clouds brought rain.”

  


In the evening, Sasuke wore the worn and wide long-sleeved shirt, the pre-desert has an unforgiving thermal excursion. The pants, however, are just yuta-colored linen shorts because he doesn’t have another pair.

  


He joins the liberty-eyed stranger near the trailer that caught fire two years earlier, left disused, corroded by black and rust, close to curling up on itself.

  


When that incredible blue goes on him, Sasuke grimaces in slight pain, his naturally thin eyebrows contracting in annoyance. 

  


“Hi” the stranger greets him by raising a hand that is large, tanned, tattooed to the fingers.

Sasuke's great grandfather didn't even speak it, the English. This stranger is lucky that times have changed, even between the customs and tradition of their tribe.

  


"How long are you staying?"

  


“How much is needed. I mean, if you don't kick me out before.”

  


“What if I ask you to leave?”

  


“I will leave.”

  
Sasuke snorts, crosses his arms over his chest, looks for the meaning of the symbols tattooed on the stranger’s skin.

  


“Can I take a picture of you?”

  


“Those things steal the soul.”

  


He sees the stranger’s tanned face filled with wonder, staring at the camera lens and looking for an answer to that superstition he knew absolutely nothing about.

  


"Can I try to make a portrait, then?"

  


"Can you draw?"

  


The blond hairs move in the air when the boy denies with his head.

“But I want to remember you.”

  


Sasuke doesn’t understand what is going on, starting from the reason why he felt the need to take a closer look at the foreigner’s affair.    
  


He leaves without even answering, he moves as quickly as possible and closes the door of his shack behind him.

  


That night he dreams of a horse that runs between rivers and prairies. A horse whose coat has the same drawings as the boy who would like to steal his soul.

  


  


  


“Did you build it?”

  


The clouds seems the same as the previous day, Sasuke sat on the ground a few meters from the stranger who today doesn’t take picture, but writes relentlessly. 

  


“What?”

  


He points at the motorcycle made of shining but dusty metal, joint of body and injectors.

  


“Oh… no no, I bought it.”

  


He still doesn’t know why he decided to spend his time with the foreigner, the others in the village tried to dissuade him but gave up almost immediately due to his well known stubbornness.

  


“With money?”

  


“Yes, several too.”

  


He laughs on his own and it’s a bright and clear sound. Sasuke’s chest hurts.

  


“Are you a rich man?”

  


The stranger laughs more, Sasuke’s stomach tightens again and again.

  


“Not even in the slightest.” 

  


He chooses silence and spends the rest of the day staying there, weaving brushwood, carving old and dehydrated wood.

  


  


  


“When are you leaving?”

  


He always asks, at least twice a day, and five are the sunsets they have spent together.

The stranger’s answer has changed since that evening in front of the burnt trailer.

  


“When you ask me to leave.”

  


  


  


It has been seven nights dreaming things he has never seen before. He decides to start from the beginning and thinks about that horse too fast to be true.

  


“Do you know what’s beyond those dunes?”

  


“You never went there?”

  


Sasuke shakes his head in denial, the light of the sky is swallowed up by his eyes, but the clouds float above it.

  


“Wanna go there?”

  


“Only if you take me there with that.”

  


The stranger smiles, Sasuke’s heart has got used to it and now he is fine when it happens, he no longer suffers. 

  


It takes half an hour of wind in the face, of jerks due to the dry and misaligned earth, of direct contact with the big and warm back of the driver. It takes a half an hour like that and Sasuke gives an explanation to all his dreams and to those cloud without rain.

  


“Tomorrow I want you to leave.”

  


The blue eyes have brushstrokes of sunset inside, he is still riding the bike while Sasuke got off and stepped on softer sand on which perhaps no one has ever set foot before.

  


“Ok, I promised you.”

  


"You did not understand."

Sasuke returns to the motorbike, climbs onto it putting his shoulders against the handlebar, his face turned towards the confused and increasingly tanned face of the stranger.

“I’m going with you.”

  


“Are you coming with me?”

  


He doesn’t reply immediately, he leans his elbows on the metal behind him, looks at him and he is more serious than ever.

  


“So you don’t have to steal my soul to remember me.”

  


The blue eyes becomes rounder, the smile takes little time to glean and change the expression of the marked face full of setting sun.   
  
“Can you get out of here just wanting to?”

  


“We Uchiha are each for himself. My father is no longer my father, my mother is no longer my mother and my brother is no longer my brother.”

  


"So why is everyone here?"

  


"Because they don't know what's beyond our borders, and they're not interested."

  


"Are you?"

  


Sasuke descends forward with his pelvis on the waves of the long saddle of the motorcycle, his worn-out shorts rise, the stranger's gaze falls on his legs more and more exposed and the tattoo on his throat trembles in swallowing.

  


"I never was until you got here."

  


The large hands full of drawings rest on the bare thighs, which are very white, are very thin.

  


"Tell me your name."

  


Black eyes harden. The name is something that is sacred to the Uchiha, they don’t reveal it lightly, and the foreigner knows it. 

He has chosen, however, and won’t go back.

  


"Sasuke."

  


The tattooed fingers are slowly sliding from the kneecaps along the entire quadriceps, climbing, pressing.

  


"You are too beautiful for the real world, Sasuke."

  


"Are you saying you don't want to take me with you?"

  


"I'm saying everyone will want you, out there."

  


It is a very short moment when day and night coexist in the same sky and it is in that very small instant that the stranger smiles, he leans forward bending on the thin and relaxed body of the other, he holds his legs more tightly in his hands, his face comes to touch his sweaty neck.

  


"Have you ever felt desire for someone, Sasuke?"

  


He cannot stop repeating his name, he does it on purpose, he is already obsessed with it.

  


“Desire?”

  


The blond's tongue licks the salty and the dust of the outlined collarbones, he swallows satisfied that question which is also an answer.

  


"Tell me why you're offering yourself this way."

  


"I dreamed it."

  


That phrase has the ability to stall the stranger, who withdraws and looks at those black eyes with undeniable gravitational power.

  


"What does it mean?"

  


"Ever since you arrived, I dream of things I don't know, I don't understand... and having you above me is one of them."

  


"How old are you, Sasuke?"

  


The air is already cool, the pale skin is covered with chills, the sweat dries up sticking relentlessly.

  


"Fifteen."

  


The stranger wonders if American laws have power even in that desert forgotten by God. He decides that no, if God doesn't care about that place, why should it matter to American laws?

  


He raises his hands even higher, under those shorts that are too loose, too damaged, too yielding. He reaches the groins and stops there, on the junction of the thighs on which normally there should be elastic bands of underpants or boxers that Sasuke does not wear.

  


"Do you ever touch yourself?"

  


The head of black hair nods, but "I couldn't do it though" he adds.

"The point is that I don't want a wife... and should be the wife's job to do it."

  


"Are you already getting married at fifteen?"

  


"Even before, I'm just avoiding it."

  


The blue eyes remain bright despite the sky has become darker. Sasuke’s hearts is no longer in pain in front of them, but his belly burns and his muscles tenses. These are reactions that intrigue him terribly.   
  
"And if I wanted to touch you would you try to avoid it?"   
  
"You can't become my wife."   
  
"I  don't want to."

  


Sasuke feels cold, but he's not cold. He lowers his hands and places them on the much larger ones of the stranger, he presses and something inside him forces him to breathe a little harder, to narrow his eyes.

  


"So why do you want to touch me?"

  


"Because I desire you, Sasuke... it's what I was talking about before."

  


"How do you know when you desire something?"

  


The stranger laughs softly, it's a beautiful sound.

  


"When you desire something you want to have it as close as possible, you want to touch it, you want to see it under every light and in every detail, you can't resist it."

  


Sasuke seems to think about it, caresses the tattooed wrists, follows the ink lines that form waves and angles unknown to him. His sex has hardened slightly, it unequivocally swells the very light fabric.

  


“What’s your name?”

  


It is a question he never asked anyone before, but it is a question he had asked in the dream of the previous night, waking up immediately after.

  


"Naruto."

  


The stars and moon already shore up the sky, but they don't shine. They are barely outlined, they peek out in the clear, bluish evening.

  


"I think I desire you, Naruto."

  


  


When the night comes, Sasuke has two foreign hands inside his shorts intent on moving against the tense skin of his excited sex and lower, between the warm folds where his thighs join.

His mouth is open and his lips are contracted, he grabs the sides of the motorcycle on which he has almost completely lay down and the heat mounts inside him at a speed he has never experienced before.

  


“And I thought that you couldn’t be more beautiful than this…”

  


Naruto is between his legs and is looking at him in a whole new way. He has taken off his leather jacket and his muscles pump brazenly, pulling the black lines of the tattoos that surround his arms, shoulders, trapezes, pectorals. Sasuke wants to see those drawings in their totality, it is the only lucid thought that he manages to have as he begins to let go of gasps, entrusting them to the night and the stars.

  


But he doesn’t manage to say anything. He can only narrow his eyes very tightly and moan words in his native language. He is begging him for more, he is literally begging to come. Naruto does not understand half a word of course, yet those sounds excite him enough to make him respond with heat and hunger. He hurriedly licks the fingertips of his left hand, he brings them back to the buttocks of the most beautiful boy he has ever seen, despite having traveled half the world for photoshoots and newspaper articles, he strokes him insistently while he does not stop even a moment to squeeze his sex with the right.

  


He makes him come like this, tearing him with intrusive and wet touches, under a blanket of wild stars, above the long back of his black motorcycle. And he didn't even get inside with half a phalanx just because he himself was overwhelmed by the growing situation and didn’t have time to realize the power of what he was doing and experiencing. He also doubts that Sasuke knows how such a thing can be done between two males, but his cock is not happy at all with this rational and measured choice.

  


It is that upset and panting boy who brings the attention upon him, looking at him in a way that pierces his brain, stomach and bowels.

  


"I want you to do it to me every day, Naruto" he says between sighs, stretching his hands over his massive thighs, covered in tight light jeans now soiled with dust from the last seven days. The blond laughs, but it is not the usual crystalline laugh. It is dirtied by repressed desire, by excitement still circulating.

"And I will do whatever you teach me."

  


No, Naruto is no longer laughing. He can't believe he found such a person in the exact middle of nowhere. Sasuke is wet with his own sperm, he is more messy than usual. The night totally suits him.

He rapidly climbs with his touch, reaching up to that system of buttons and zippers he doesn't know.

  


The biggest winces, he stop those inexperienced movements and "What are you doing?" Asks amazed by that initiative.

  


Black eyes look at him sharply, annoyed.

  


"I told you I desire you, so I want to touch you like you touched me."

  


Naruto's sex pulsates at those words, his lucidity is strongly affected. With a gesture of fingers, he undoes the metal button of the jeans, the zip yields a little and then he lowers it completely.

  


Sasuke looks annoyed at the additional layer of fabric to which he is not accustomed to, he sneaks a hand under it and something tightens in his throat in feeling that consistency so different from his own.

  


"And how old are you?"

  


Naruto catches the connection between the situation and the question, he welcomes it and it that is enough to strongly feel the urge to receive pleasure.

  


"Way more than you" replies to cut short, to postpone that conversation.

  


He pulls down the elastic of the boxer, he tries to expose as much flesh as possible, he wants to come and wants to do it in the shortest time possible.

  


The black eyes do not move for a single moment from that hard sex and from the movement of the pale and inexperienced hand on it, the boy's face is red and full of shadows, the expression is focused and, perhaps involuntarily, hungry.

  


Naruto would like to say he doesn't realize what he's doing, but the truth is he knows it very well. He stretches a hand through the thin and deep black hair, knotted and dusty. He grabs Sasuke by the head and first he pulls him towards himself and then he pushes him down.

  


"Lick me, kid."   
"You wanted me to teach you, didn't you?"

  


The other has disappointed features, but decides to trust him. He bends down on his own, rests his mouth on Naruto's already wet sex, sticks out his tongue and licks it as he was told.

  


It’s the groan he receives in response to his laps that encourage him to insist.

Eager and not so kind directions 

guide him in opening his lips and moving up and down to take in his mouth that adult cock through and through.

  


Naruto comes in an orgasm topped with swearing words and liberating moans, he wets Sasuke's lips and cheeks and he is sure to have blown out even a piece of soul. The other sits down pretty quickly, brings his fingers to his face and touches Naruto's sperm without any emotion on his face.

  


But then he pulls his tongue out and sucks his lip, tastes a few drops and he twitches his eyebrows.

  


"It tastes strange..." he comments as if nothing had happened.

"Not bad."

  


Naruto's heart almost bursts. That Sasuke is incredible, he can’t just exist for real.

  


He puts a hand on his clean cheek like he wants to be sure of his actual existence, he touches him above the ear, he caresses his hair.

  


"Do you still want to come with me?" He asks as his chest pounds and his head floats lightly.

  


"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

  


  


  


That night the wind blows hard like it hadn't happened in years. It takes away brushwood, grains of sand and towels that had not been well tied to their respective supports. It even takes away those rainless clouds, it takes away the stranger and his motorbike, he takes away Sasuke.

  


And now Sasuke constantly wears the wind, while for fifteen years it has been almost a stranger to him. He wears it while traveling around the country riding that motorbike on which he was first touched, he wears it clutching the back of that boy who seems to be made of sun and freedom, he wears it when he lets to be lead along panoramas that he never imagined could exist.

  


Now when the rain falls he wants to stop and, with open arms, he tries to welcome it as much as possible, standing in the middle of a field or in the middle of a parking lot in whatever city. Most of the time he laughs amid the incessant drops.

The clouds no longer disturb him, good weather is no longer his safety. He feels safe everywhere, yes, but Naruto has to be with him.

  


The desire has not toned down even a little, rather it has grown.

And he always wants to have that body colored with ink and melanin on him, he wants to writhe on his fingers and against his mouth which, he discovered, tastes like spring.

  


The obsessive relevance for names is all that is left of his first fifteen years of life, so much so that no one has ever said his name yet. When asked, he lies.

"Naruto" is a very precious word for him, he never says it in vain and it is the only name that, he decided, he will ever say out loud.   
He loves to scream it when he comes, he loves to be filled with whatever belongs to him. 

Living has never been so beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> What a thrill to write for the first time for an audience other than the Italian one, but I'm very happy to do it with Naruto and Sasuke: my favorites.  
> Naruto was inspired by Eppie Elliot's fanart ([here](https://eppie-elliot.tumblr.com/)).  
> The story was translated by [NSA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nodosenoatriale) who loved it and helped me make it international. I love you, bae.
> 
> My other stories are in Italian, but if you want to stay in touch here is my [facebook](https://www.facebook.com/dylan.sephiro.7).  
>  Ciao  
>  Dylan


End file.
